


Take it Off

by heros_wings



Category: JYJ (Band)
Genre: AU, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 09:24:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3686958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heros_wings/pseuds/heros_wings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaejoong is a fashion photographer. He has standards. High standards. So when Yoochun walks into his studio breaking every rule of fashion, all Jaejoong wants to do is undress him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take it Off

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the prompt: "That is a hideous shirt, you should totally just take it off."

Thanks to [boonies](http://archiveofourown.org/users/boonies)  _again,_ without whom this probably never would have turned into a smut.

 

* * *

 

Jaejoong was a reasonably tolerant person. It came with being a professional fashion photographer.

He had to direct spoiled models, and explain to them that _no_ that pose was _not_ appropriate for modeling a handbag, and, _I don't care if you think your ass is your selling point, we're kind of advertising a necklace._

Jaejoong had seen and done almost everything.

He'd talked clients out of dressing their models in plaid overalls and putting shiny purple paisley ties with blue window-pane suits.

He'd taken pictures of naked men and women in nothing but latex body paint.

He'd photographed hyper-active child models chasing after the scandalized cat they were supposed to be posing with.

The point was...

Nothing rattled him.

With one exception.

Park Yoochun.

Hot, popular, up-and-coming actor, who had been testing Jaejoong's tolerance since he walked into his studio 6 months ago.

 

*

 

Their first meeting, Jaejoong thought it was because he was new. A guy who just got his first break and didn't understand the rules of fashion.

So Jaejoong was patient.

He eyed the grey sweatpants, matching grey parka, and tattered brown sandals with only a minimal amount of judgment. Because under the terrible fashion sense, Yoochun was attractive.

He had long, wavy hair, full lips, an easy smile, and collar bones so perfect, Jaejoong convinced his client to let Yoochun keep the low, swoop-necked shirt as a "gift."

Jaejoong also may-or-may-not-have tossed the sweats when no one was looking, and given Yoochun a pair of tight-fitting jeans instead.

 

*

 

The second time they met, Jaejoong shoved a pair of jeans, a simple v-neck t-shirt, and a leather jacket at him, muttering, "Did you steal your grandfather's sweater?"

The stylists stood to the side, equally exasperated and put out.

"Is this even a shirt?" Yoochun replied, holding up the thin fabric that would probably tear if he pulled it over his head too quickly.

Jaejoong pushed him into the dressing room and tossed a pair of fashionably damaged boots in after him.

The sandals mysteriously disappeared shortly after, and were replaced by another pair of boots.

 

*

 

The _third_ time, after seeing Yoochun waltz into his studio in another pair of ugly sandals, Jaejoong physically removed him from the grips of a somewhat scandalized coordi-noona, dragged him to the nearest shop, and bought him 10 new outfits and five different pairs of boots.

"Where the hell did you get another pair?" He tossed the sandals in the trash, ignoring Yoochun's protests, and forcing a pair of boots in his hand.

"I _like_ sandals."

"It's _snowing_."

 

*

 

The fourth time they met was after Jaejoong spent a month obsessively checking paparazzi photos.

Yoochun hadn't worn _a single outfit_ Jaejoong bought him, and the ugly sandals had somehow magically reappeared. 

When he had reached for his phone to text an irate, _why the hell aren't you wearing what I bought you, you look like a homeless college student,_ he remembered they never exchanged numbers and sulked for three weeks.

The next time they saw each other, Jaejoong stole Yoochun's phone off the table while he changed and punched in his number.

He texted him no less than 20 times.

The only reply he received: _'how did you get my number?'_

 

*

 

He spent the month snapping at idols and models for wearing stupidly fashionable outfits to a _photoshoot_ because _what the hell you're changing anyway._

Which was fucked up.

He was a professional. One that demanded perfection.

He shouldn't have missed seeing the horrible pants, ugly sandals and Yoochun's stupid, apathetic face.

But when Yoochun showed up in ugly striped pajama pants, an oversized brown coat on top of what was probably an old, ugly sweater, and a bright red beanie, there was just an illogical, unacceptable rush of affection. Even the round, thin wire-framed glasses couldn't keep his stomach from doing stupid little flips.

And that was fucked up too.

Nothing was supposed to bother him. He'd seen it all.

He'd photographed the country's most famous, beautiful celebrities without his professionalism wavering a single time.

But Yoochun...with his ugly pajama pants and brown fucking sandals Jaejoong swore couldn't actually be sold in any reputable shoe store, dug into his skin and settled in like a poorly drawn tattoo.

The kind only drunk people get.

Yoochun looked at him equal parts apprehension and _if you take my sandals again I'm going to beat you with your own camera._

"I sent you texts..." Jaejoong greeted.

Yoochun raised an eyebrow.

"You sent me 50."

 

*

 

A week later, Jaejoong tried to bribe the photographer hired to cover Yoochun's photobook, with soccer tickets and a few cats.

"Nope." Junsu told him, slamming his apartment door shut with his new kitten cradled in his arms.

 

*

 

Jaejoong showed up to the photoshoot anyway. Arms full of clothes from his own closet.

"I brought sandals," he said when Yoochun started walking away. "They're Gucci."

Yoochun backtracked and stopped in front of Jaejoong, who held out the sandals expectantly.

Without word, Yoochun took them.

Their fingers brushed.

Jaejoong's hand burned for a week.

 

*

 

"How did you find us?" Junsu narrowed his eyes at Jaejoong, who showed up unannounced at the small dinner they were having at a hotel after wrapping up the final day of the photoshoot.

He stared around the room, ignoring Junsu, searching for a pair of ugly sandals.

Yoochun was standing at the bar, wearing his ugly striped pajama pants, a black t-shirt, his ridiculous wire-rimmed Harry Potter glasses, a bucket hat, and–

–sandals.

Gucci...sandals.

Jaejoong’s mouth went dry.

The striped pants were blue and the sandals were brown and the entire outfit was a mismatched mess...

He was a fashion photographer. One with standards. High standards.

He shouldn't have been turned on by this.

Yoochun's eyes met his.

He didn't even remember moving, but suddenly Jaejoong was standing in front of him, hands curled in his black shirt, face a little too close.

"Your outfit is terrible."

Yoochun grinned. The corners of his eyes turned up in amusement.

"Wanna take it off me?"

The line was stupid and corny and just like Yoochun's ugly mismatched outfits, sent want coiling through his body.

 

*

 

They made it to Yoochun's room in a tangle of grabby hands, and strangled noises. By the time they stumbled inside the door, they managed to scar at least one family of four and an elderly couple.

Yoochun barely managed to toe off his sandals when Jaejoong slammed him against the door.

"It's about–" Yoochun gasped as Jaejoong's mouth latched onto his collarbone. "–time."

Jaejoong froze.

He looked at Yoochun with a frown, hands creeping their way up his shirt as he spoke.

"You planned this?"

Yoochun grinned.

"I thought I'd have to resort to fur coats and spandex."

Moaning at the image, Jaejoong slammed his lips against Yoochun's. His erection strained painfully against his jeans.

He licked at tugged at Yoochun's lips, drunk off the small noises he was pulling from him.

The glasses pressed awkwardly against his face when he pressed closer. With a frustrated growl, he pulled them off.

"Better..." he said, capturing Yoochun in another searing kiss.

The deep moans turned into a sharp gasp as Jaejoong tugged the hem of Yoochun's shirt up, forcing it over his head, taking the stupid hat with it.

Jaejoong moaned at the sight of Yoochun — hair disheveled, pupils blown, swollen lips parted.

He trailed kisses down his neck, and latched onto the red mark he'd left earlier on Yoochun's collarbone. His hands travelled lightly up his stomach. The feel of Yoochun's muscles quivering under his fingers almost sent him over the edge.

"Jae–" Yoochun's breath hitched as Jaejoong's fingers brushed over his nipples. "Bed..."

Jaejoong ignored him. He cupped Yoochun through the soft fabric of his ugly pajama pants, drawing out another moan.

Moving his lips away from Yoochun's neck, he breathed into his ear, "Not yet."

Yoochun shuddered against him.

Jaejoong sunk to his knees, and Yoochun's hands immediately buried themselves in his hair.

"Need to get these horrible things off first..."

His hand dug into Yoochun's hips, as he brought his mouth to the clothed erection.

"Seriously..." he pressed a kiss to the bulge.

Yoochun's knees shook. He placed a hand on Jaejoong's shoulder to keep himself standing.

"Where do you even get these?"

He hooked his fingers into the waistband and yanked them down.

"F-Fuck...hyung st–" he gasped as Jaejoong's mouth wrapped around him.

Jaejoong gagged when Yoochun thrust forward.

"S-sorry..." Yoochun grinned down at him.

Jaejoong glared, and brought a hand up to tug on his balls.

Yoochun gasped. His knees buckled, and he barely managed to catch himself on Jaejoong's shoulders.

"Fucker..."

Jaejoong smirked, and wrapped his lips around him again, tonguing the slit, tasting the salty, clear fluid leaking from the tip. He hummed and slid his lips further, taking him completely down his throat.

He swallowed, Yoochun's moans echoing loudly in his ears as drew back again.

Yoochun was trembling, fingers flexing on his shoulders.

He slid back down Yoochun's length again, and brought the other hand up. His finger pressed gently against Yoochun's entrance.

Yoochun cried out and thrust forward as he came in Jaejoong's mouth.

He gagged, but managed to swallow most of it.

"S-sorr–" his apology was lost in a low moan as Jaejoong tightened his throat around him again, before releasing him.

He licked the salty taste off his lips, eyes locked on Yoochun's.

Jaejoong stood again, come on his chin. Smirking, he wiped it off and licked his fingers clean.

Yoochun crashed his lips against Jaejoong's and kissed him like he was the only thing keeping him alive.

His hands tugged at Jaejoong's shirt, and together, they managed to pull it off.

"Nice tattoo..." Yoochun's fingers trailed over the words Jaejoong had inked into his skin several years ago: _Always Keep the Faith._

The touch burned Jaejoong skin. Another moan escaped his lips as he rutted against Yoochun's leg. The fabric of his jeans scratchy and painful against his erection.

Yoochun kicked off his ugly pants, and forced him backwards. He followed, lips attached to Yoochun's as they stumbled into the bedroom.

Barely inside the door, Yoochun unzipped and tugged his jeans down, bringing his briefs with them.

When Jaejoong tried stepping out of them, he tripped, and landed just short of the bed with an awkward _thump._

Embarrassed, ass hurting, he glared up at Yoochun, who had his hand held to his mouth in suppressed giggles.

With an amused grin, Yoochun offered his hand to pull him up.

Jaejoong took it.

And pulled Yoochun down with him.

Yoochun landed on top of him with a startled shout.

Jaejoong lay flat on his back, their faces inches apart, Yoochun's leg between his knees, and his hands on the floor on either side of Jaejoong's hips. He grinned as Yoochun glared at him. When he tried straightening up, Jaejoong latched his arms around his waist, and pulled him flush against his chest.

He felt Yoochun's hardening cock brush against his own, and his grin widened.

"Fucker..."

Jaejoong's hands travelled down his back and squeezed his ass. "That's the idea."

"Bag..." Yoochun breathed, sitting up. He moaned and rocked against Jaejoong when a finger brushed across his entrance. "...lube..."

Jaejoong watched him scramble to his feet towards the bag in the corner of the room. His eyes roamed up Yoochun's legs, to his bare ass, and up his spine, where his eyes landed on a tattoo.

Of a woman.

An older woman.

Jealousy burned low and hot in his gut.

He stood and pressed himself against Yoochun's back as he rifled through the bag.

"Nice tattoo..." Jaejoong growled, his fingers digging possessively into Yoochun's hips.

He looked over his shoulder at Jaejoong with a grin, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

"It's my mother."

Jaejoong stared at him.

In addition to horrible fashion, Yoochun also apparently made...unique...tattoo choices.

Rolling his eyes, Yoochun turned back around, plucking the lube and a pack of condoms from his bag.

"Gonna change your mind?" Yoochun smirked, facing him again.

Jaejoong grabbed the condoms and tossed them on the bag, replying with a smirk of his own.

"You don't need those with me."

He kissed Yoochun all the way to the bed, and landed on his back with Yoochun on top of him.

He grabbed the lube and popped the cap, spilling most of it in his haste.

He slipped a slick finger inside Yoochun.

"I'm not buying you any more clothes..." he pressed in deeper, reveling in the moans coming from Yoochun, who planted his hands against Jaejoong's chest and rocked back.

"Just go naked..."

He added another finger.

Yoochun grinned, and opened his mouth to retort but broke off with a gasp as Jaejoong spread his fingers.

He pumped and twisted his fingers inside Yoochun. Quick and impatient.

It was probably too fast. But Jaejoong didn't care.

He didn't want to go slow. He wanted to feel the tightness surrounding him. Feel his cock stretching Yoochun as he rode him.

His cock throbbed and he pulled his fingers from Yoochun.

Yoochun apparently didn't want to go slow either. He was already reaching for the bottle of lube, and covered his fingers. Cool hands wrapped around Jaejoong and stroked.

He threw his head back against the pillows and thrust into Yoochun's hand.

"Enough..." he panted, muscles already tightening, begging for release.

"Eager?" Yoochun teased, arms shaking as Jaejoong's hands settled on his hips and lifted him.

"I've been trying to undress you for months..." Jaejoong replied, guiding Yoochun down.

They gasped in unison as Jaejoong breached the first ring of muscle. Yoochun was hot and tight and Jaejoong was going to come or go insane.

Yoochun gasped and shook above him as he lifted back up and inched down again.

Jaejoong tightened his hold on his hips.

Insane. He was definitely going insane.

The bad clothes.

The questionable tattoo.

Everything about Yoochun was going to drive him crazy.

Maybe he already was.

Yoochun lifted up again, then dropped down so Jaejoong was buried deep.

The image of Yoochun's head thrown back, neck exposed, hair damp with sweat and plastered against his face...

It was too much.

Jaejoong thrust up, meeting Yoochun as he sunk down again.

Yoochun moved at a fast, uncontrolled pace. His head dropped, and their eyes met.

Yoochun swiped his tongue across his lips. And that was it. That was enough to make Jaejoong's muscles tighten and fireworks explode behind his eyes as he thrust into Yoochun, filling him with his release.

He watched as Yoochun continued to ride him, come dripping down his thighs, fingers wrapped around his own cock.

Jaejoong wanted to tattoo the image in his mind forever.

His hands joined Yoochun's. The moment they touched, Yoochun came with a strangled cry, covering Jaejoong's stomach and chest.

Breathless, Yoochun rolled off and collapsed next to him.

 

*

 

A week later, Yoochun attended an awards show wearing a tuxedo and his Gucci sandals.

Jaejoong was already waiting for him backstage.


End file.
